Chapter 15 - The Unbroken ShieldIn the grand ballroom—the exact place where Vanessa Sterling had tried to humiliate her hours earlier—the remaining two mercenaries were advancing toward the central staircase.
"Bravo-Two isn't responding," the lead operative growled, raising his weapon. "Check the perimeter."
Suddenly, a blinding, disorienting 1,200-lumen strobe light exploded in the center of the dark ballroom.
The two mercenaries screamed, blinded instantly as their high-gain night-vision goggles overloaded with white light. They ripped the devices off their faces, firing blind bursts toward the chandeliers.
Naomi moved through the flashes of light like a shadow brought to life.
She closed the distance in two seconds flat. She swept the legs out from under the second mercenary, driving her heel into his collarbone as he fell, neutralizing him instantly.
The lead operative recovered his vision just enough to see a figure in a gray sweater standing before him. He lunged, driving a heavy tactical combat knife toward Naomi’s neck.
Naomi didn't step back.
She sidestepped the blade by a fraction of an inch, caught his wrist with her left hand, and executed a devastating arm-bar submission technique that shattered his elbow with a sharp CRACK.
The lead operative dropped to his knees, howling in pain, his weapon sliding across the polished floorboards.
Naomi stood over him, holding his own tactical knife at his throat, her breathing calm and completely unhurried.
"Who hired you?" she asked softly.
The operative spat blood onto the floor, glaring up at her through swollen eyes. "Go to hell..."
Naomi pressed the blade just deep enough to draw a single drop of blood. "I've been there. It’s overrated. I’ll ask once more: Who signed the contract?"
"Sterling!" the man gasped out, trembling under the terrifying coldness of her stare. "Richard Sterling! Through a broker in New York! He wanted the Whitmore servers wiped tonight!"
Footsteps rushed down the grand staircase behind her.
Ethan ran into the ballroom holding an antique iron fireplace poker, followed closely by old Arthur Whitmore carrying a 12-gauge hunting shotgun.
They stopped dead in their tracks.
The grand ballroom was illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the high glass windows. Three heavily armed mercenaries lay unconscious or incapacitated across the floor.
Standing in the center of the room, holding the leader of the strike team hostage with cold, effortless precision, was the woman who had served them chamomile tea three nights ago.
Naomi looked up at Ethan, her dark eyes softening just a fraction as she lowered the blade.
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"The house is secure, Mr. Whitmore," Naomi said quietly. "You can call the police now."
Here are Chapters 16 through 20, bringing the story of Naomi Reyes and Ethan Whitmore to its thrilling, emotional, and definitive conclusion.
